The Haunted Wax Museum
by orangekangaroo
Summary: Sam has a terrible nightmare about a wax museum. Dean shows him that it was more than a dream and they take off to a small town to investigate a series of disappearances surrounding a wax museum. Based loosely on House of Wax. Lots of protective Dean, scared/hurt/captured Sam. NO SLASH. Rated M to be safe for gore, language and whatnot.
1. Real-life Dream

**So I don't know if any of you have seen the movie The Wax House, but it one messed thing. Simultaneously laughably bad and squeamishly gross. Anywho, for those that haven't seen it, Jared Paladecki/Sam dies a horrible death by being made into a wax figure. While still alive. And then his friend peels his skin off. Yeah, I know. Ew. Still, I couldn't help but wish that Dean would come busting in to save Sammy. And kill Paris Hilton (who is also in the movie, don't worry, she dies). But then I thought more about my little plan and came up with this. Set somewhere after Sam discovers that his visions come true. Enjoy.**

_He was lying on the table, not even restrained, as the hunched figure approached him. He had long, stringy black hair and a strange waxy-looking face, and Sam knew he needed to get out of there. But his mind was hazy and dim from a blow to the head and his Achilles tendon had been nicked. The man with the waxy face was cutting his clothes off with an old pair of scissors until he was naked to the world. He tried to call out for Dean, but all that came out was a weak groan. Suddenly he felt a burning pain as the long-haired man drove a three-inch syringe full of melted was into his chest, into his heart, and pushed the plunger down. Sam tried to scream from the unimaginable pain, but his chest tightened and his voice just wouldn't come only sound was a soft moan.  
_

_Wake up! Sam told himself over and over, but it wouldn't happen. He had to be dreaming. Dean would never let this happen, never. Wake up! WAKE UP!_

_He felt the man's hands spreading wax and cloth gently on his arms, legs, everywhere he had any body hair, including his eyebrows. The mocking caress soon turned to more pain as the hair was ripped out, one small strip of fabric at a time. Then he was in some sort of strange contraption that held him in a sitting position with hands out like he was playing the piano or something. The first sprays of hot wax covered his feet, and as more sprays turned on he was coated in layer upon of wax. It burned his skin, and it blistered under the treatment.  
_

_His eyes couldn't close, his fingers were growing stiff in their wax prison, and he could see the man still watching his newest creation forming. __DEAN! __Sam started screaming inside as his vision tunneled and started to go black.  
_

_SAM! SAMMY WAKE UP!_

* * *

Dean was sitting at the small table in their crappy little motel room, drinking from a flask and looking through pages of internet articles on mysterious deaths, old legends, and straight-up gossip. Usually he would have Sam do this because it was one of the few things that Dean would readily admit that his little brother was better at. He cast a quick look at the sleeping giant and noted that his face was pinched in his sleep. That wasn't unusual so Dean turned back to his work. The kid had nightmares a lot, but they usually passed quickly or woke him up.

Dean was on his fifth dead end when he heard the muttered "No...don't...No, please..." Dean paused and turned to look at his brother. His brow was sweaty and scrunched in pain. Then he fell silent, only making small sounds as if his chest was being compressed and he couldn't breathe. Dean started to get a bad feeling in his stomach and suddenly Sam started muttering again.

"Dean...Dean, where...where are you? Dean..." Sam's muttering grew slightly louder, the same collection of words, over and over. Dean moved to sit on the bed next to him.

"Sam, I'm right here."

"Dean! DEAN! Help me!" Sam was shouting. Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulders.

"Sam, I'm right here! Wake up!"

Suddenly Sam stopped shouting and just screamed. It was the scream such that Dean had never heard before. It shook him to his core and made his blood run cold.

"SAM! SAMMY WAKE UP!" Dean shook him harder and then slapped him hard across the face. Sam's eyes shot open and he bolted upright in bed, trying to get out of the bed. Dean struggled with the larger man to hold him down, shouting his name as his brother tried to run. Finally something snapped in Sam and he sagged into Dean, resting his head on his older brother's shoulder while he breathed heavily. Dean wrapped an arm around him tightly and used the other to stroke his hair. "Shh, Sammy, it's me, you're alright, calm done." Dean repeated it over and over as he felt a wetness on his shirt. Sam was crying.

"Dean, where were you?" Sam whispered shakily. "I tried to...Tried to yell for you...Where...?"

"I'm right here, Sammy." Dean rubbed his damp back gently. Sam put his arms tightly around his older brother, uncaring of how vulnerable he looked. Dean, despite what he said about chick-flick moments, tried to show his brother through touch that he was safe. "It was a dream." Sam nodded into the fabric of Dean's shirt. Sam wouldn't let him go for what seemed like hours but was probably just a few minutes. Dean leaned back and cradled Sam's face with his hands as he wiped the tears away with his thumbs like Sam was five years old again.

He brought two washcloths soaked in cold water over to Sam. Sam sat up as Dean placed one cloth on his neck and used the other to start dabbing away the sweat and tears from his face. Usually he would be embarrassed by Dean's attentiveness, but after his dream he was willing to let Dean mother him. Suddenly he felt sick and bent over the side of the bed and emptied his stomach into the trashcan. Dean rubbed his back the whole time, trying not to cry himself. Sammy needed him.

Ten minutes of whispered reassurances later, Sam finally sat up reluctantly and Dean got fresh cloths to wipe his forehead with. Sam was embarrassed when Dean helped him change into some clothes that weren't soaked in sweat and laid him down in the other bed (as Sam's was soaked in sweat), but he knew he couldn't do it alone. Then Dean went to make some crappy coffee in the small coffee machine in the room, all while keeping an eye on his brother.

When the coffee maker beeped, Dean poured the coffee into two cheap cups and added a liberal amount of liquor to Sam's. Sam accepted it gratefully and they sat in silence for awhile. Dean noticed that Sam kept inching closer to him, so he moved to sit with his back against the headboard and his arm around Sam. It reminded him of how he would comfort Sam when he was little and had a nightmare.

"Sammy." Dean squeezed his shoulder. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry." His shoulders slumped. "It was so...so real. Everything about it was real. The sights, the smells, the...pain." He shuddered and Dean felt his rage building at something he knew he couldn't kill for hurting Sam. He pulled Sam even closer and surprised Sam by kissing the top of head lightly.

"What was it?" Dean felt his brother tense up and saw his eyes tearing up again. Sam closed his eyes and saw the images in his head.

"It was...I wasn't me, but...I was...It was like I was me in someone else's body. In some little crap town with a bunch of missing persons cases. Something about a wax museum and...There was this...man...thing there. It...It tried..." Sam wiped his eyes. "Dean, it turned me into a wax statue."

"What?" Dean's chest constricted as he shot a glance to the laptop.

"It stripped me, pumped me full of wax, and then covered me in it. I felt...everything." Sam hugged his arms to his chest. "It was so real. I tried to call for you but I couldn't. I was...I couldn't breathe. The wax was so hot..."

"Sammy...Sammy I am so sorry." Dean whispered. "But I think you might have been more than dreaming."

Sam scrolled through the articles one by one, and he saw the pattern.

"Seven disappearances on the same road to the same town. A town where the owner of the town wax museum was murdered fifty years ago." Sam checked more town history. "Ten years ago, same thing. Ten disappearances."

"Why now?"

"I don't know, but I think we should check it out." Sam quashed the terror he felt at the thought of checking it out. "It may be nothing." Sam knew he was just kidding himself. His visions were always true.

"Yeah. Maybe." Dean placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Are you ok for this? I don't want to get my beautiful face messed up because my backup is scared."

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks." Sam smirked lightly at Dean's skeptical face. "Jerk."

Dean's eyes lightened slightly and he smiled. "Bitch."

Sam didn't go back to sleep that night, and neither did Dean.

**Yeah, so review. And just to remind you, not slash. Seriously. Not slash. Just brotherly love.**


	2. Perfection, Nevada

Dean drove his beloved Impala silently, something Sam both appreciated and worried about. They were on their way to the small town of Perfection, Nevada to investigate the disappearances of seven outsiders. Upon further digging, Sam had found that the town itself had been plagued by strange occurences and disappearances every ten years since the death of the wax museum owner's murder.

"Sam." Dean waited until he was sure Sam was listening to him. "Is this a good idea? I mean, your past...dream-visions, or whatever they are, didn't include you actually experiencing stuff. What if the vision was about you? What if-"

"What if we're heading to my doom as a wax statue?" Sam ended the sentence. Dean nodded.

"Yeah."

"I told you. It wasn't me in that chair, not really. It was like an out-of-body experience. Inside another guy." Sam rolled his eyes when Dean snorted at his accidental unfortunate wording.

"If you're certain, then we'll be there in a few hours." Dean checked his watch. "This town is so small they probably don't even have a good taco joint. Speaking of, we're stopping at the next one I see. You made me leave before breakfast."

"Dude, seriously? It's 7:30 in the morning." Sam teased lightly. "Who eats tacos this early?"

"Then I'll get a breakfast burrito, idiot." Dean said in a tone that suggested Sam was too dumb to possibly exist. Sam grinned and leaned his head back in the seat. He dutifully ate when Dean brought him some food, but he was tired from his lack of sleep. And if there was one thing he knew about hunting, it was that a few hours of sleep could be the deciding factor in a life or death situation.

'Wake me up when we get there." Sam told Dean as he closed his eyes. Thankfully, he didn't instantly see any horrifying images right away and he faded away as Dean turned his music down. The thrumming of the engine and the soft murmur of classic eighties rock were like a sedative to him.

* * *

Dean felt a little bad when he woke his brother up, but when they passed the sign to Perfection, he shook his younger brother awake.

"That sign said this town has a population of nine hundred and thirty-six people. Small towns give me the creeps." Dean looked around furtively as they drove down the main road of town. They passed a general store, a diner, a music store, and a few other buildings until they found a small off-brand motel.

An hour later, they had picked their fake IDs (FBI, as usual) for the job and headed to the sheriff's office. Another person, the eighth victim, had been reported the day before. This time it was a local teenager. Sam and Dean approached the secretary, Dean showed his badge and they were sent through the door.

"Well, gentlemen, this has been the worst couple of months in a long time. First those nice people from out of town went missing after passing through and now..." The older, portly man trailed off. Sam gave his condolences, and after a few more minutes of conversation they left. All the sheriff told them was, "The last time anyone saw him was the night he disappeared. Some friends dared him to go into the old wax museum and bring back a wax body part. He never came back out. We searched everywhere, but...he was gone."

As they left the building, Sam turned to Dean. "There's definitely something going on in the museum. We should check it out."

"Hold on Sammy. I think we should go to the diner." Dean pointed.

"Come on, really? You're thinking about food? Now?" Sam asked incredulously.

"We need more information, and where's the best place to get the gossip?" Dean looked expectantly at Sam. Realization dawned on the younger man's face.

"The waitresses. They hear all the gossip."

**Ok. Reviews. Please.**


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